A Different Beginning
by Elizabeth Robert-Jones
Summary: Ezra and Aria meet for the first time in a coffee shop after Aria returns to Rosewood after attending college in Iceland. A take on what their relationship might have been like had they met six years later. R&R please!
1. Chapter 1

I stared down into my coffee cup, watching the froth on the top of the cappuccino I had ordered disappear as I stirred it mindlessly. It had been a long few years after I got home from Iceland. There was the usual friendship and high school romance, but nothing felt the same, Alison was still gone, and everyone had changed. Except for me. I had matured in Iceland, learnt the language and had my first real relationship, but when I returned to Rosewood it all went down the drain. I was the same awkward teenager that left.

After completing my allotted time at Rosewood Day it was back to Iceland, much to the dismay of the girls, who I of course Skyped endlessly and visited on holidays. I spent four years in Reykjavík at the University of Iceland, majoring in English, split between studying the literature I loved and writing, and this time hopefully not just for me.

Now I was back in Rosewood, a mere day after graduating. Nothing much had changed, the coffee shop still had the same furnishings and the college bar's 'menu' was identical. The girls however, had changed.

Spencer was in her final year of medicine at Harvard, and would have been the pride and joy of her parents had she not married Wren a week after turning eighteen in a whirlwind elopement. Melissa hadn't spoken to Spencer since the happy couple had announced they were seeing each other at one of the family dinners Veronica held frequently in the hope that inviting Wren would rekindle the relationship he once had with Melissa.

Hannah, instead of becoming a fashion designer, was an up and coming editor currently working with Harper's Bazaar in New York. She had realized that her dreams of sending models down the catwalks of London, Milan and Paris would turn her passion into a job after a semester of college majoring in fashion design. Luckily enough, one of her lecturers had seen her aptitude for journalism after reading one of Hannah's 'annotated' copies of Vogue (covered in sticky notes with suggestions) and recommended a journalism major.

Emily had stuck with swimming throughout college, and completed a sports psychology degree at Hollis, so that once she was out of the pool competitively, she was still involved in the sport she loved. Much to everyone's surprise she had also gotten married, in her third year of college, and now lived happily with her wife Samara, whom she had reconnected with in the halls of Hollis.

Once again, after a few brief flings in Iceland, I was in Rosewood sitting by myself. I took a sip of coffee only to realize that it was cold. With a presumably disgusted look on my face I put the tepid coffee into the bin behind me. A heard a laugh from behind me and looked over to see two grown men giggling at my cold coffee experience. I turned around and asked, "Do you laugh every time someone puts something into a bin?"

The taller of the two glanced at the other, and still laughing said, "It's a pity for you Ezra, all the cute ones are either taken or don't speak English."

The second, slightly shorter with piercing blue eyes and curly dark brown hair, quickly retorted, "Hardy, as if any female around here has ever looked at you seriously since you asked your lecturer why he was talking about Mexican porn during that lecture where he mentioned Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, and it was put on Youtube."

My confusion over the statement about girls not speaking English quickly turned to embarrassment with the sudden realization I had spoken in Icelandic. I could feel my face turning pink, and keen to save myself from further embarrassment I made my way toward the counter to order another coffee. I was such a spaz, the first time I even try to speak to a guy in Rosewood I can't even manage to pick the right language. I ordered another coffee and turned around to see the shorter guy standing behind me in the line.

"I'm apologize about my friend. My name is Ezra. Sorrys about my poor Icelandic." Ezra apologized in terrible Icelandic, flashing me a nervous smile.

I felt sorry for him, I thought my Icelandic could be bad, and it was nice for him to apologize. I returned a similarly nervous smile. "It's okay I do speak English, it's just been a while since I've had to" I said.

Ezra looked relieved, "Thank God, because I don't remember much else in Icelandic, only how to ask where the bathroom is. You've obviously lived in Iceland for a while, are you from around here or on holidays?" he asked.

I heard my name called and picked up my coffee, and leaning on the counter replied, "Yeah, I grew up here, but spent a year in Iceland in high school then lived with my Aunt in Reykjavík while I went to university. I'm Aria by the way."

Ezra's name was called, so he picked up his coffee and turned around to face me, leaning on the counter as I did. "Great! I spent a semester in Reykjavík during the summer in the third year of my English degree. It was amazing."

I smiled, a few minutes of talking and we had commonalities. I picked off where he left, "No way, I majored in English too." He smiled, which was a good sign, so I continued, "Do you write? Creative writing courses were some of my favorite."

He looked at the floor for a second and hesitated before answering, "Um, yeah, I write. But most of the time it's a page or two which promptly ends up in the trash. I've written some short stories and poems, but I don't think they're ready from human consumption."

"Yeah, I understand, I write a lot, but I don't think I could bare having someone else look at my work. It feels so personal." I responded. I thought for a minute before asking "Maybe we could look over each other's work, if we promise not to show any other living soul."

"Pinkie swear?" he joked.

I giggled, "If necessary." A few minutes later and we had programmed our names, numbers and email addresses into each other's phones, and settled into a quiet corner. The conversation quickly turned back to Iceland. I wanted to know what had attracted Ezra to the perpetually frosty country, "So Ezra, why Iceland?" I questioned.

"Do you want the honest response, or the one I wrote on my application?" Ezra hesitantly replied.

I thought for a second, and asked myself if I really knew him well enough to require that kind of honesty from him. With a rush of uncertainty I decided on honesty, "Erm the honest answer, if it's not prying."

He smiled and suddenly looked melancholic, "Well, I'd been seeing this girl since freshman year and I thought I was in love with her. It was the end of the second semester in my third year and I went to her dorm room to surprise her with flowers. I found her in the arms of someone else. One of my friends at the time as it would happen. I didn't want to deal with the situation so I applied for exchange and left."

Feeling guilty for my curiosity I found myself saying, "I'm sorry, that must have been terrible."

"It's okay. You're actually the first person I've told. Telling everyone would probably make everything easier, people still ask why we don't get back together, but I can't bring myself to do it. Sorry for dumping my problems on you like that." He went to take another sip of his coffee and realized the mug was empty, so he placed it back on the table. He continued, "I bet you didn't go over there in a fit of escapism."

I bit my lip and looked into my coffee cup, still a quarter full. He had told me his story, so surely I should tell him mine. Hesitantly, I told him my reasons for leaving. "In my first year of high school my friend Ali disappeared. My Mom decided that getting away from Rosewood would do me some good. Despite what I said when she told me we were leaving, it actually did. I grew up a lot and I didn't have to worry about local newspapers calling and asking about Ali. When we came back nothing much had changed. Alison's body had been found, so now the phone calls were about what I thought of the possible murder suspects. Rosewood was driving me nuts, so once I finished high school it was back to Reykjavík."

Ezra looked a little dumbfounded, not knowing what to say back, but eventually managing to speak. "I'm sorry about your friend, it must have been hard."

Before either of us could say anything there was a rush of cold air as the coffee shop door opened and a tall, beautiful brunette woman strode toward the counter and demanded a type of coffee I had never even heard of complete with the newest and most popular low fat milk. She turned around to examine the shop and I noticed Ezra sink into his seat, trying to avoid her gaze.

"Ezzy!" she exclaimed, "You're back! You never called to let me know you were in Rosewood again. We should get a drink together, catch up."

Ezra looked like he was about to faint and spluttered, "Hi Jacks."

Suddenly her attention was on me. Now I felt like I was about to faint. She was pretty, and she was clearly after Ezra, I realized with an unexpected twang of jealousy. She left the coffee store before anything else was said, or in Ezra's case spluttered.

Ezra looked at me apologetically. "Was that her?" I asked.

He just nodded in reply and stared into his empty mug. After a few minutes he spoke, "Sorry about that, I haven't seen her in years. Last I heard she was somewhere in Texas lecturing."

I knew it wasn't his fault and was actually enjoying his company, but I certainly didn't want any other interruptions. So in a move of confidence, possibly caused by adrenaline, I moved my chair a little towards his. "We could always go somewhere a little more private, get to know each other a little better" I found myself saying.

Before I could say another word, or beat myself up over my clumsy advance, he had smiled and agreed, and said his place was just across the road. A minute later we were making our way over to his apartment.


	2. Chapter 2

_Hi everyone! Sorry it's been so long since I updated (more than a year). Just a few things before I continue..._

_*A does not exist in this story._

_*This is happening four years after the girls graduated high school. _

_*Thanks to the person who pointed out Iceland isn't all that chilly on average. I had looked at climatic data but as I live in a place that has snowfall recorded one in the last two hundred years it seems a little chilly to me!_

_*Thank you to everyone who reviews, every suggestion helps._

...

Ezra and I walked up the three floors up to his apartment. He opened the door for me, telling me to make myself at home. The apartment was lovely. Antique movie posters lined the walls where there were no bookshelves and a smell of coffee wafted from the kitchen, even though none was being made. I instinctively ran my finger over a row of book spines, reading the titles. Ezra coughed, and I was very suddenly aware I was not alone. "I like your place" I managed to choke out, "have you actually read most of these books though?"

"Not really, I do read a lot, but my weakness for acquiring new material means I have this library of sorts." Ezra answered, smiling as he talked.

I settled onto the large, dark brown leather couch in the centre of the room. Ezra sank onto the cushion beside me. Our conversation continued, To Kill A Mocking Bird was both of our favorite book and It Happened Last Night was our favorite movie, though Ezra just seemed relieved that my favorite movie wasn't The Notebook. Our tastes in music differed, he preferred Jazz and I had a soft spot for any kind of music which required the drummer to have a double kick.

As the conversation progressed we moved toward each other, inching forward each time either of us spoke, until I was all but in his lap. Ezra moved a little closer and we fell silent. I looked hopefully into his piercing, light blue eyes. He smiled and leaned in toward me, sliding an arm around my waist to pull me closer.

I straddled Ezra's lap, looking into his eyes, him looking into mine, as if we tried hard enough we could read each other's minds. Ezra wove his fingers through my hair on the back of my head, and he leant further toward me as I did towards him. He gently pressed his lips to mine. Nothing had ever felt so good, or so natural. I kissed back and ran my fingers through his hair, pressing my body against his as if we could be any closer.

Unexpectedly, he drew away, leaning back against the couch. I was surprised, surely my coffee breath was no worse than his. I must have looked anxious, because he smiled reassuringly.

"I hope you don't think I bring every woman I meet across the road back here." Ezra nervously articulated. "Because I really enjoyed that, and we have a lot in common. I don't want it to be confined to the time we spend today in my apartment."

I silently breathed a sigh if relief. I moved toward Ezra and rested my head on his chest, my hands placed in his. "I can tell you don't bring every woman you meet back here, otherwise you would have much less time for reading," I joked, "and I don't want this to end here either, but I do want to know I'm not some rebound."

"Aria, you're not a rebound or some sort of distraction." Ezra said, relieving my fears.

It looked as if the conversation was going to take a serious tone, Ezra stroking my hair, while I listened to his heartbeat.

All of a sudden Ezra stopped playing with my hair, pulling me away from him and asked, "Aria, do you have dark blue streaks through your hair?"

I smiled and answered, "Yes, I've had streaks since high school. They were pink back then, I thought blue would be a fitting change for college, improve my chances of getting internships."

"I like it." Ezra laughed and pulled me closer to him once more. Our lips met, but this time with much more intensity.

I grabbed his hair, and fought for dominance, pushing against Ezra. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me even closer, until my body seemed to conform to the shape of his. We kissed passionately, and as each time either of us surfaced for breath our exchanges became more intense. No one had ever made me feel like this before, like there was nothing more important than attacking Ezra's lips, a man who had been a complete stranger just a few short hours before. I started to push Ezra so he would lie down on the couch, moving to grab the hem of his shirt as I did so. Instead he picked me up without disrupting our exchange. I wrapped my legs around his waist in response.

Pulling he face away from mine he murmured "I think we might be more comfortable in here." Moving towards what was presumably his bedroom door.

He opened the door and we continued making out. I pulled off his shirt, throwing it on the antique desk that dominated a corner of the room. As we approached the bed I leaned back, so Ezra laid me down onto the bed, moving so that he could lie beside me. He pulled me towards him, so one again my body seemed to conform to the shape of his. We smiled at each other, both satisfied that we had gotten to know each other this well in such a short time.


End file.
